


Cross My Palm With Silver

by Sashataakheru



Series: 1920s Taskmaster AU [1]
Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: 1920s AU, Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Fortune Telling, Jazz Clubs, Jazz era, Tarot Readings, getting called out by tarot cards, not quite hook-ups, weird shit idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: It's definitely just chance that has led Greg to this jazz club that seemingly has appeared out of nowhere. That's definitely it. There's nothing weird going on here, not at all.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Katherine Ryan
Series: 1920s Taskmaster AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708387
Kudos: 7





	Cross My Palm With Silver

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something that wanted to be written and now it is, and I think I might have an inkling of an idea for more of this AU, but we'll see. Feel free to run with it if you feel so inspired. <3
> 
> I'd like to thank my Ancient Egyptian Tarot Deck for giving me the perfect reading for this fic. <3

_regum timendorum in proprios greges,_   
_reges in ipso imperium est Iovis,_   
_clari Giganteo triumpho,_   
_cuncta supercilio moventis_

kings who inspire fear (have power) over their own herds:  
over kings themselves, Jupiter has power,  
famed for his triumph in the Giant War,  
moving everything with his eyebrow.

* * *

It was the kind of bar that you found when you weren't looking for it, tucked away at the back end of some dark, smokey alleyway, the drifting jazz in the air drawing you close until you were inside, not sure you hadn't been here before. It looked like every other jazz club in London, of course, but then a glamorous flapper in a dress made of sequins took your coat and offered you a drink and a cigarillo, and the door became invisible.

This was definitely not the place Greg had planned to come tonight. He had other things on his mind. A business proposition had been offered to him that afternoon, and he wasn't sure if he should accept it. After all, it seemed too good to be true. Normally, he was the one strong-arming the little guys into his empire. They didn't usually turn up and ask for a kicking. Somewhere in the midst of wondering whether it was worth it, he'd ended up here, but he wasn't sure he minded.

"Welcome to Vega's Bar, sir. May I take your coat?" 

Greg's attention was drawn away from casing the joint to the black American lady who'd approached him, a tray bearing a drink and a cigarillo. She smiled at him, and Greg smiled back, understanding the nature of this exchange. 

"Oh, certainly," Greg said as he handed his coat over. His important things were in his jacket, after all. "Nice place you got here."

"Thank you, sir. Been going a long time now, business is good. Got some great bands playing tonight, and there's always some single ladies around if you find someone who catches your eye," the woman said with a wink.

Greg laughed. "Oh, like you, hey? What's your name?" 

"Lolly. Like honey, but sweeter," she said. She was absolutely batting her eyelashes then, and Greg definitely noticed. "Have a drink on the house, sir, since this is your first time here."

"That's very generous of you, thank you," Greg said, taking the drink. He took a sip. Dry martini. Not quite what he was in the mood for, but a free drink was a free drink. 

"It's all part of the service, sir. Do enjoy your evening," Lolly said, ushering him inside.

"Thank you, I will," Greg said as he casually wandered further into the club.

There were more people here than he expected, but none of them seemed familiar. They were sat around small tables, watching what was probably the house band playing soft jazz to set the mood. Usually he never went to clubs alone; either he was with his assistant, or he was going to meet someone. He did ponder leaving, but the night was young, and he'd clearly ended up here for a reason, so he found a spare table and sat down, content, for now, to just watch and think.

* * *

A couple of whiskeys later, the music had livened up, and everyone had started dancing. It was enough to lighten his mood that when a pretty young thing asked for a dance, he was more than happy to say yes. He was a pretty good dancer, and he didn't mind showing off if he got a chance. She, too, seemed to know her way around the dancefloor. She introduced herself as Katherine, and Greg found himself smitten.

They ended up dancing for over an hour, by which time Greg had totally forgotten the troubles that had led him here. Katherine seemed to warm quite well to him, and when she asked to sit with him as the band changed hands, he was more than happy to say yes. 

"You must go dancing a lot to get that good," Katherine said.

Greg smiled. "Yeah, work is stressful enough. This is where I can properly relax."

"Well, why not dance away your troubles? Seems like a great idea to me," she said. 

"Ha! Yeah. God knows it's been a week I didn't need," Greg said.

"Oh? Business getting rough, hey?" Katherine said, gently touching his arm. 

"You don't know the half of it. But I won't ruin the night by sharing all of my problems with you. I don't want to do that tonight. Just sitting here with you is already making them feel better," Greg said, noticing the way Katherine was gazing up at him.

She took his hand in hers. "If it's real bad, maybe go ask Madame Vega? She knows everything. I always see her before I make any big decisions. She might help you clear your mind?" 

Greg laughed. "Oh, no, I don't need a psychic, but thanks for your concern. It's just business." 

"Clearly it isn't if you're that preoccupied with it. Go on, what does it cost you? If she's right, she's right. It's not like you have to listen to her," Katherine said. She gestured over her shoulder. "You can find her out the back. Just follow that corridor back there behind the stage." 

Greg looked where she indicated and indeed saw a corridor marked with a beaded curtain. "You're shilling for her, aren't you? Finding all the new faces and getting them to go see her so we can lose our money to this stupid venture, right?" 

Katherine laughed. "Oh, no, it's not like that, I promise. She doesn't need to shill. Her reputation does it for her. I mean, maybe that's why you ended up here, yeah? Maybe she has some advice for you."

Greg sighed. "God, I mean, at this point, that's the most plausible explanation I've heard yet. If I go see her, will that make you happy?" 

"I'm happy if you're happy. Besides, the Jukes are on in a minute, and I'd love to dance with you. You'll love them. They're your kind of band," Katherine said.

"Well, I guess we'd better dance then, hadn't we?" Greg said.

* * *

Katherine, it turned out, was far, far too much fun. They had another couple of drinks after dancing for another hour before they found their way to a small lounge area, where she lay down on a couch and kicked her heels off. Greg gazed at her, unable to remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed. 

"What're you thinking about?" Katherine said, gazing at the ceiling.

"You, and how much I'd love to take you home with me," Greg said.

Katherine laughed. She had the kind of laugh that Greg knew the answer to that proposition would be no, but that didn't stop him asking. She was no doormat. She was a challenge, and he loved a challenge. She rolled over onto her stomach to gaze at him, her head resting on her hands. 

"Honey, there is no chance in hell of you ever being enough for me. But thanks for asking. I had a great evening though. If you ever come here again, I'd love to dance with you," Katherine said.

"Well, at least you don't entirely hate me. I guess I'd better head off. I'm meant to be at an early meeting tomorrow, and I'm not looking forward to it," Greg said.

Katherine made a face. "Oh, boo, you're no fun."

"Meetings are never fun. If it wasn't about a potential contract, I'd just skip it and send my assistant. But it's too important for that," Greg said.

"Hey, maybe Madame Vega can enlighten you and give you some advice on whether it's worth your while? You never know, it might make you feel better about it!" Katherine said.

Greg sighed. "Oh, what the hell. What have I got to lose now? Can't be any worse than some of the shit advice I've been given lately."

"Look, if she's wrong, she's wrong, but you never know. People come from all over to see her. She's good. Trust me," Katherine said.

"Alright. I'll go see her. Just for you, for keeping me company tonight. It's the least I can do," Greg said.

"Oh, what a lovely gentleman you are," Katherine said.

Greg knew that was absolutely not the case, but said nothing as he kissed her hand and meandered through the crowds to the corridor she'd indicated, hoping this wasn't going to be a complete waste of his time.

* * *

Madame Vega's room was the plushest room Greg had ever seen. It was hidden in the back, with no apparent windows, lit with one electric light, and dozens of candles. She sat in the centre of the room, at a table, and her eyes seemed to see right through him as he ducked to enter. She didn't rise to greet him.

"I wondered if I might be seeing you tonight. Come, take a seat," she indicated the seat in front of him.

"Thank you," Greg said as he sat down. He could sort of see her better now. She seemed to be in her 40s, dressed in what he could only describe as gypsy garb. Her nails were dark and pointedly long, her left hand tapping gently on the deck of cards at her side. Her blonde hair fell down past her shoulders, and she wore a scarf tied around her head. 

"Your head is turmoil. What is bothering you enough to come and see me?" she said, and her voice was all curiosity and intrigue.

"Look, I don't know if I believe in any of this, but a friend suggested I see you. I've got a business meeting tomorrow, and it seems too good to be true. Perhaps this will just tell me what I know in my gut, and that's to say no, but perhaps someone outside of my world will be able to see something that I can't," Greg said.

She picked up the cards and began shuffling. "Yes, I thought it might be something like that. You stink of money, and that's all your sort ever come to me about. But don't worry. I'll read the cards for you. Let's see if they have anything to tell you."

Greg watched her shuffle. She didn't take her eyes off him as she worked the cards and began laying them down. She drew five cards, leaving them face down in three columns, two, then one, then two, and spent a moment considering something before she turned the bottom left one over. 

"This is your current financial situation, and here we have the Chariot. This tells me you have good control of your finances and know what you want your money to be doing. You know what you want and make sure you get it. Money doesn't own you, you own it, and make it work for you. That's good. Money should never control you," she said.

"That's very true. If money doesn't do something, it's not worth having around," Greg said.

She glanced at him with a curious expression. "Is that also your attitude to people, sir?" 

"I don't pay people to lounge around, if that's what you're asking. I run a tight ship, but it works," Greg said.

"Hmm, well, that's good to know," she said and turned back to the cards. She closed her eyes a second before turning over the card above it. "Ah. Five of wands reversed. This card indicates whether money will be coming to you in the near future. The five of wands reversed tells yo to avoid conflict and respect differences, so if your business deal is going to involve not doing those things, you might want to turn it down. You will only make money through respect and peace. Conflict will lead you nowhere except to ruin."

"I mean, that's just good business sense, but I hear you," Greg said.

"You're not a normal businessman, I can tell. Don't pretend like you're entirely clean. There's a part of your business you don't want people to know about. I'd watch your back. Some enemies have learned to hide in the shadows where you can't see them," she said.

Greg decided against taking that bait. He knew he had enemies. You didn't get involved in criminal activities and not acquire some enemies along the way. 

"I think you'll find I know how to work in the shadows very well, thank you very much," Greg said.

"Hey, I'm just passing on the message. Take it or leave it," she said. "You can always go. No one's making you sit here listening to this."

"I know, sorry. It's been a long, strange day. I hadn't meant to be rude. Please, do continue," Greg said. He had no desire to argue about it anyway.

She smiled in a mysteriously knowing way as she turned over the centre card. "This card represents opportunities you might want to look at more closely. Here, we have the three of cups, which is an interesting card to pull here. You need to address your own happiness and your friends. Your community that you've build up around you is the most important thing to your success. Good people bring good fortune, bad people bring ruin. Take stock of who is working for you and see if any need to be let go, or if there are any allegiances that may be of benefit to you. This isn't suggesting that you have a few bad eggs working for you. But it is suggesting that you should take a moment to be sure that you're surrounding yourself with good people. That way lies great success."

"Also not terrible business sense. But good advice to hear nonetheless. Is it seeing anything in particular, or just everyone?" Greg said, unable to help getting drawn into it.

Madame Vega thought a moment. "It's possible. I think there's someone who doesn't always have your best interests at heart. They are close to you, but you might not realise this. Just be careful. It might just be that kindness and communication can fix this problem, rather than going through ratting out your friends."

"Hmm, I'll keep that in mind, thank you," Greg said. He sort of had an idea who she might be referring to, but he couldn't be certain. He'd have to see if there was actually something there. Whether or not she was really channelling messages from the beyond, she was definitely giving him some solid advice. 

She turned the top right card over. "Well, this card represents obstacles to you getting your way, and right now, that's you. Judgement reversed means a lack of self awareness, doubt, and self-loathing. You are your own worst enemy. You are the one thing standing in your way of success. When you trust in yourself, things go well. When you doubt your own judgement, you make bad decisions and lose all your money. You can't love others when you don't love yourself. Self-loathing breeds loathing for others, and bitterness makes its home in your heart. That is the way to ruin. It's up to you whether you heed this advice or not, but that's what the cards say."

Greg found his defensiveness rising then, not wanting to hear any of this, no matter how correct it might be. "Yeah, well, they're just cards, aren't they?" 

Madame Vega smiled. "And you're just a man."

Greg bristled. "Just finish the reading so I can get home."

"The only person who's kept you here is yourself. Now, let's see what the final outcome is, since you're already keen to leave." She turned over the last card to reveal the sun reversed. "Well, there you go. Whatever this deal is, it will not bring you what you want. I see nothing good here, only bad news, bankruptcy, and your utter failure. I would not go ahead with this deal. Maybe that's what you'd already decided. I don't know. But I'd look elsewhere for money. This isn't the right place."

"Is that all the advice you have for me?" Greg said. He was, in many ways, unsurprised by the result, but was that because he'd asked for it, or she'd somehow sensed he needed a no? Or was that just dumb luck? Confirmation bias? God knows. 

"For now, of course. Leave your six quid on the table as you leave. I have a feeling I'll see you again," she said.

Greg was too drunk to feel mad about the price as he fished his wallet out. It's not like he couldn't afford it, and she did talk some sense. Still, he left the money and stood, offering only a curt bow and a distrusting glance as he returned to the club.

The only problem was, he didn't find himself at the club. At the end of the dark, long corridor, there was only the foggy, damp street he'd been on before. He was carrying his coat over his arm and he pulled it on as the night closed in, seeking his way back home, wondering what on earth had happened. 


End file.
